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“Are we going to stay here much longer?” As Clint grumbles for the umpteenth time, you turn towards him, freezing your “significant other” on the spot. You hit on the knee with your binoculars, so that he just would, at least, take his feet away from the balcony of your box at the opera. You don’t ask for a lot- you don’t even pretend that he’d pay attention – just that he would be quiet. And didn’t snore.
“Next time I’m asking Kate to come with me.” You hiss between clenched teeth, hoping that the next box will not hear you. Frankly, you don’t even know why Clint wanted to accompany you so much. You get that neither of you had had any chance to dress up recently – or even go out in normal clothes, or go out at all – but couldn’t he go out with his pals, at least? Leave you on your own to enjoy your favorite opera?
“What are we exactly seeing anyway? It’s been over an hour and I have no idea what this is about. And why were we supposed to come here so early? Shouldn’t these things start, like, at nine? It’s almost seven and we’ve been here for an eternity!”
This time, it’s your fan that hits Clint on the head- the binoculars, you are using them to watch the opera.
“We’ve only been here an hour and an half, and it’s Wagner’s Götterdämmerung.”
He lifts an eyebrow, crossing his arms as he squirts his eyes as to see better on the stage. “What language is this anyway?”
You resist the temptation of hitting your head against the marble balustrade and groan out loud – your next-box neighbors would probably made sure you were blacklisted from this theatre for the rest of your life, and you just love this place – and do what you thought you were supposed to right from the start: you give Clint your silenced phone to play or read or do whatever he wants, just in silence. “Just turn your hearing aid off and be quiet, and in half an hour, as soon as the interval begin, you go do whatever you do in your free time!”
He dares to chuckles as he takes the phone from your hand, and he… well, you are not sure what the hell he is doing, but you fear he may be gaming, the perfect example of adulthood you’ve had the brilliant idea of procreating with.
“I’m serious, Clint. I’m not going anywhere with you ever again. I’ll ask Kate to come with me next time. She appreciates the fine things in life, differently from someone I know.”
“Right. And would you really entrust Francis’s life – the safety of our beloved firstborn – with either Barney or me?”
Your widen your eyes, as big as saucers, as you find yourself agreeing with Clint, all kinds of scenarios coming to life in your mind’s eye- and all culminating with your son in the ER- and those are just the nice ones. Clint and Barney tend to make the weirdest enemies, and you still have to understand how Baron Zemo- who used to go against Cap and Bucky – would actually fight them.
You sigh, rather dramatically, as you give Clint your device back, after having loaded a copy of his favorite book, Zen in the art of archery, re-awakening his interest in something that’s not talking or disturbing you from enjoying your opera. Things seem to go well for the next fifteen minutes, but then, Clint drops the phone in your lap, and he pinches your naked arm. “Ehy, did I hear the word Brunhilde? As in, our Brunhilde? Valkyrie?”
“It’s inspired by her, but it’s not about her.” You whispers. “Götterdämmerung is about how Ragnarok came to be- the death of the Norse Gods.”
“OK, so that it’s clear- we are looking at something based on something that has actually happened to someone we know? Something we should just ask them about?”
“It’s a story, Clint, not history. Didn’t you study the difference back when you were in school?” You demand, almost annoyed.
“Nope. When I was in high school, I was too busy making out with some pretty girl to pay attention.” He chuckles, hands joined behind his head. “Ehy, do you want to make out?”
“It’s the opera, Clint, not some blockbuster movie! You don’t make out at the theatre!” You stare at him, almost petrified by his scandalous proposition.
“Oh, c’mon, we haven’t had a minute for ourselves since you got pregnant with Francis! You ask me, when the interval begins, when sneak out and find ourselves a nice motel and cuddle…..” he lifts an eyebrow, suggestively. “If you know what I mean.”
You lift an eyebrow of your own, too- but the pulsing vein in your forehead seems to suggest to Clint that yes, you got the innuendo, and no, you didn’t appreciate it. “Oh, yes, I know what you mean. I know exactly what you mean. And, out of curiosity, are you going to sneak out in the middle of the night just to reappear when your son was two months old like last time?”
He swallows. “In my defense, Cap called. And I didn’t know that I would have been kidnapped by evil aliens.”
The red brocade tent closes on the stage, and as the siren of the interval sing, you stand up. Clint, ankles crossed yet again over the balustrade, looks at you quizzically. “C’mon, you are buying me another ticket for the next show, and I’ll come here on my own. You can either babysit Francis with Kate or go playing poker with Barney- your choice. But you are forbid to join me at theatre ever again.”
He stands up, and joins you in the corridor. On your heels, you quickly make your way outside the theatre, trying to avoid the people you saw sitting next to you- they’d sent you death glares, you are quite positive, given Clint’s constant chit-chat over the prologue.
You hug yourself in your soft, sleeveless dress as the chilly night hit you, and, as he walks at your side, Clint, the perfect gentleman when he wants and when he feels like trying, gives you his suit jacket as you walk side by side, waiting for a taxi to appear right before your eyes.
“Spoiler alert: the gods and the heroes die, but then they all come back to life in a sort of eternal and everlasting circle. Or so I’ve been told.”
You blush lightly, and leave a butterfly kisses on his cheek, going on tip-toes to better reach him. Sometimes, just sometimes, Clint can be sweet. And funny. And not the idiot that he tries so hard to pretend to be. “So, what do you say, Hawkeye- you want to make out in the back of a taxi?”